Love Me Today, Hate Me Tomorrow
by ChasetheMorning22
Summary: Peter Strahm gets caught in a hallway by Mark Hoffman after work, only to find it might not have been the best idea to stop. Light bondage, cursing, sex. A one shot between Peter Strahm x Mark Hoffman of the Saw Series.


**DISCLAIMER: Ok, so I know this could probably never happen in the universe, but I like the idea. I do not own the characters Special Agent Peter Strahm or Detective Mark Hoffman. Also, it's been a while since I've written anything, so I'm a little rusty. Anyway, enjoy!**

"Strahm!" Detective Hoffman walked purposefully down the long hallway of the station, his lengthy black coat whipping out after him. Special Agent Peter Strahm stopped dead in his tracks after just barely exiting a doorway. He turned slowly, heart hammering away in his chest. Strahm's face was set, revealing no trace of emotion whatsoever, though he certainly wasn't feeling that way at the moment.

"Hoffman," he replied coolly. Mark had already stopped in front of Peter, his heart thudding violently against his ribcage, exactly as Strahm's was. Peter's mouth went dry at the sight of the man before him – such stunning blue eyes. Knowing Mark in the most intimate of ways really only exacerbated the situation. Peter fought the tingle somewhere below his belt and instead focused his feelings on his recent suspicions involving Mark and the Jigsaw murders. His heart hardened a little more, despite the Mark's look now making him melt inside.

Mark stepped dangerously close to Peter, so close that Peter could smell the sweat of the day and some other muskier order that lingered on his flesh. That smell was so deliciously familiar now. . .

"How have you been holding up?" Mark asked, his hand brushing Peter's arm rather gently. This was a surprise to Peter as he knew Mark was _not _usually almost didn't respond. A groan was closer to his lips than words. However, he managed a sentence.

"I'm holding up fine. You?" Peter found his eyes were clinging to Mark's lips despite his brain's commands to stop.

"Just working," Hoffman replied. Strahm was highly aware of Hoffman's eyes slowly undressing him. He avoided Mark's eyes as best he could, glancing everywhere except Mark himself.

"Good. Good," Peter replied, turning to leave. Just as he had expected, Mark's hand flew out to take his wrist.

"Peter," Mark said, pulling him back.

"No, Mark," Strahm grunted, attempting to yank his wrist free. It was no good. Peter glanced over his shoulder, the expression on his face harsh. "I told you this couldn't happen again." Hoffman stared at Strahm, the look in his eyes equally as stony and challenging.

"You'll never be able to stop loving me," Mark stated calmly.

"Sure," Peter replied dryly, his body continuing to face away from Mark. He knew it was the truth, unfortunately.

"You won't." Hoffman mercifully dropped Peter's wrist. In a flash, Mark had thrown Peter up against the nearest wall, his body burning with need. Strahm barely had any time to gasp before Mark's mouth was on his, wet and warm. Peter kept his mouth shut, turning his head to the left to keep their lips from meeting again. His mouth burned where Mark had kissed him.

"Mark, get off!" Peter shoved Hoffman away with full force, ready to throw a blow if need be. Hoffman landed against the wall across from Peter with a loud thud. He glared at Peter angrily, his eyes flashing. Peter glared back, his eyes matching the daggers being thrown at him by Mark. "You idiot. THIS CAN'T HAPPEN."

"Wanna bet?" Mark came right at Peter again. Strahm spun out of the way and grabbed Mark by the back of his jacket, pulling him dangerously close again.

"Back the fuck off or you're going to regret it, Hoffman." Their faces were about two inches apart now. Peter gritted his teeth behind his lips, struggling to hold back. He could smell Mark's breath; the warmth of it caressing his face gently.

'Son of a bitch,' he thought to himself, staring at Mark's face. 'How could you do this to me?' Peter pushed Mark from him more roughly than he intended. Mark managed to stop himself before he hit a wall again, swinging around to face Peter. Angrily, he aimed a punch at Peter, who quickly grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Here they were again, dangerously and enticingly close. 'Fuck.'

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Peter's breath on the back of his neck. Neither moved for a few seconds, not daring to disturb the electrically charged air around them. Peter, meanwhile, was debating on releasing Hoffman. He could do some very bad things either way, so the point was moot. Finally, without a second's warning or thought, Peter swung Hoffman around and pressed him against the nearest wall, his mouth crushing into Mark's.

Peter's tongue darted over Mark's lips. He was driven on feeling the slight tug of Mark's teeth on his lower lip, the wetness of his tongue caressing Peter's in turn.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen,' Strahm thought to himself as Mark grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall now. Mark's hands roved Strahm's body without permission (at least not verbal permission), running over the chest portion of his white button up shirt. Buttons flew helter-skelter as Mark ripped Peter's shirt open without warning, running his hands over Peter's chest beneath the cloth. The motion made Strahm shudder, especially as Mark's fingers flitted over his nipples.

Peter dragged Mark into the nearest room after yanking the shredded shirt off his torso. He haphazardly ripped Mark's jacket from his body, his shirt from his back, and before he knew it his fingers were shakily working at Mark's belt. The only noise in the room was their quickened breathing. Hoffman worked at Peter's clothes in turn, hands working just as quickly. Soon after they were both fully nude, taking each other's bodies in as if this were the first time they had ever seen each other.

"Come on," Mark dared Peter, backing up against a table. Peter smirked, gladly taking on the challenge. He had finally given up the battle of his mind and given in to his heart. He wrapped his arms around Mark, holding him close as he kissed him fiercely. Mark's fingers dug into Peter's back, causing Peter to arch slightly. Hoffman took the opportunity to bite Peter's neck, being so exposed. Strahm gasped loudly, fingers clutching at Mark a little more as the pain hit him, blossoming across the flesh of his neck.

"God I hate what you do to me," Strahm muttered between placing kisses on Mark's neck. Mark quite quickly descended to an extremely risky level, making Strahm hate him even more. Peter let his head fall back in relaxation, trying as hard as he possibly could to accept the moment as it was – rapid, fierce lovemaking in an air of denial.

Mark came back up after a few moments and placed a kiss on Peter's lips, a little more gently than usual. Soon, however, he was back to his usual bites and sucking on Peter's lower lip. His hands raked through Strahm's hair, pulling Peter's head back a little to make his kiss go deeper. Peter winced slightly as his skull felt the prickling fire of the hair pull. He learned not to mind this as much.

He opened his mouth, receiving Mark openly. Peter ran his hands over Mark's chest, teasingly dipping his hand as low as the trail of hair on Mark's stomach. Mark lifted his head long enough to suck in an anxious breath, his eyes closed to feel Peter's touch more extremely. Peter grinned deviously, his hands moving in different motions in Mark's most sensitive areas.

"Jesus, Peter," Mark groaned, his knees buckling slightly.

"Told you you'd better back off, right?" Strahm responded, quickly moving his hands causing Mark to stiffen and groan even louder. "You know, this room was prepped a little earlier. . ."

Strahm dropped his hands. Mark gave him a rather reproachful stare as he wandered off to the back of the room for a few minutes. The glare was gone once he realized what lay in Peter's hands however – some rope and a rapidly melting ice cube. Peter was grinning evilly again as he set the rope down on the table behind Mark. He popped the ice cube into his mouth and kissed Mark, parting his lips with his tongue. They exchanged the cube back and forth in a sensual game, mouths going from hot to cold and back again. Before the cube melted entirely, Strahm pulled it from his mouth and began circling the cube over and over Mark's chest in curlicues and circles.

Mark grabbed the cube forcefully and pushed Strahm down onto the table, where he assaulted the prone figure with the sliver of ice.

"Shit that's cold," Peter said as Mark dragged the ice down his chest, past his belly button.

"That's the point."

Mark rounded off his ice torture with a warm breath over Peter's belly button and lower. Peter shook his head, slightly dazed. Before he knew what was happening he was being flipped over and restrained with the rope he himself had placed on the table.

"You're evil, Hoffman," Strahm said as a hand stung across his ass, taking away the coolness of the table underneath him if only for a second.

"No, just fun." Strahm shut his eyes, unable to anticipate what was going to happen. Mark was giving no hints at all and it was unusually quiet back there.

"Hoffman. . ." No answer. "Hoffman." Still, nothing. "HOFF-" Strahm was cut off as a gag of cloth entered his mouth. He felt Mark tying it back behind his head. Peter just shook his head in annoyance rather than protest. "Ooo ucking uck," he said, voice muffled.

"What was that?" Mark asked, giving Peter another sharp smack on the ass.

"Nuffing," Peter muttered, wincing. God, that hand could do some major damage.

"I thought so."

Strahm closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He felt rubber somewhere in his nether regions, followed by wetness, and then more rubber. His eyes popped open rather quickly and he gasped, the deed being done. Mark, meanwhile, enjoyed himself tormenting his captive by moving in and out rather slowly. He smirked, going faster, causing Peter to gasp behind his gag. Mark raked his fingers through Peter's hair, eventually grasping a few strands, sending fire through Strahm's skull again. The dull ache made him want more, oddly enough. A few minutes, several re-lubings and "OH MY GOD's" later, Mark was totally spent collapsing on to Peter's back.

Despite the gag, Strahm smiled, enjoying the feel of his lover's heart pounding against him. Mark went around the table a few minutes later and knelt to be eye to eye with Strahm.

"I know I 'ucking uck', but. . ." Hoffman carefully removed the gag and kissed Strahm, smoothing the sweaty hair off his forehead. Strahm grinned.

"Not so much now."

Mark removed the ropes from around the table legs and watched as Peter stood, massaging his wrists a bit.

"Ok, fucker," Peter said, aiming to get revenge on Mark for his without-warning ass assault. "My turn."

"Oh, this'll be fun. . ."

Mark raised an eyebrow, daring Peter to come to him on the other side of the table. Strahm took the challenging willingly. He skidded to a halt behind Mark and restrained his arms behind him, taking a bite on Mark's neck as he did so. Hoffman hissed loudly.

"Are you trying to draw blood now, Peter?"

"Maybe."

Another bite.

"OW."

"Sorry." Not.

Peter bent Mark over the table rather quickly but slowly allowed himself in. "I hate you, you know that, right?" Peter whispered into Mark's ear, making him quiver slightly. This was only half joking, the flash of the Jigsaw murders running into his thoughts and going out again just as quickly.

"Yes."

Without another word, Peter began his work. Mark writhed a little under him but ceased immediately feeling the sharp sting of Peter's hand across his back. All that could be heard within the room was the quick pants of both partners, the rocking of the table every once in a while and quite murmurs between the two. Peter's hand found Mark's on the tabletop, entwining his fingers with Mark's knowingly.

Mark did nothing but wait until Peter was finished and flipped over to sit up.

"You know I'm still going back to hating you tomorrow, right?" Mark said, referring to their work charade.

"I know." Peter placed a soft kiss on Mark's lips, letting them linger on Mark's ever so slightly before pulling away again, his heart heavy with the guilt of what he'd just done. "I know."


End file.
